To clarify, this was the thing I was surprised you didn’t do the first time – not that you didn’t defy the insurance labyrinth yourself.
???
I broke the tooth Friday night and had an emergency extraction Monday. When was I supposed to have submitted this to the Insurance company and waited for a response?
My sister-in-law actually sent me a message asking me why I hadn’t done this (note: my mother is not on FB and wouldn’t see it if I did). I replied that my mom doesn’t show up in photos and mirrors.
Here’s where I was coming from: my dentist’s office staff queries my insurance company FOR ME to verify coverage while I’m still in the chair and the insurance company answers the question right then and there. If your dentist doesn’t do this or your insurance company stalls on giving them an answer (and why on earth would they?), then I withdraw my snarky remark.
In fact, you should just switch to my dentist. She’s been known to cut me some slack on paying for the part my insurance doesn’t cover, either breaking it into payments or letting me pay it after payday. She’s also a smoking hot Latina, as are most of the women who work for her.
My dentist’s front office staff checks what’s covered while I’m in the chair getting xrays.
[QUOTE=Zakalwe]
WHO THE FUCK TAUGHT THESE PEOPLE ABOUT FORMATTING? I mean, Jesus-fucking-Christ-in-a-jumped-chariot-sidecar, my eyes bleed. GIANT fonts. Three words to a line. Colored fonts. Cutesy graphics. The list goes on and on and on.
People, your warning would be much more effective if your recipient could actually, you know, READ the fucking thing.
[/QUOTE]
Shhhhh. They may hear you! I like that the crazies all make liberal use of all-caps, bold, colored fonts, exclamation points!!!, and giant fucking letters since it makes them incredibly easy to spot even on the rare occasions they don’t use some ridiculous title.
Silver lining.
Back on the old AOL boards we had a twit who used a different size and font for every letter in his sig. I believe he was 15 or so, so there’s some hope that he eventually grew out of it.
Every time I visited my parents, I’d be asked to “just take a look at our computer, would you?” and so, despite the fact that my baby brother could design and build a computer with his eyes shut, and program a computer with one hand tied behind his back faster than most people could even load a program, I’d look at the computer. And I’d find things like Comet Cursor. And the computer hadn’t been defragged since my last visit up there. Antivirus? Antispyware? My parents were ignorant of such notions, and they sure didn’t want me to install anything. I tried to explain, BUT…
What, confusing people who were looking for you and thought you were your Mom is a nice thing to do?
In the “Are you friggin’ kidding me” file, two of the people invited to my sister’s birthday dinner tonight showed up with their un-anticipated kids, for the excellent reason that she, “Didn’t get around to booking a sitter.” Well, we pulled up another table and more chairs and shuffled around and all made room for the two extra people, then the manager came over and asked them to move the two kids to the end where people couldn’t see them, because we had been seated in the lounge where kids are not allowed because they had been told that there were no kids in our party (and other parents who wanted to sit in the lounge with their kids saw the kids in there and didn’t understand why those kids could be in there but their kids couldn’t). Nicely done, folks. People like you are the reason that people like me join childfree by choice social groups so we don’t have to socialize with people like you.
I love my husband but sometimes he is so freaking’ clueless! I was going to leave the house at 11 this morning to go do something with my mom, and I asked him to let me sleep until 10. Great! I also asked for a specific breakfast. Silly fellow didn’t stop to see if any bacon was actually thawed, so now I’m sitting here smelling biscuits (which will get cold) and staring at the microwave defrosting the rest of my breakfast. It’s a good thing we had to switch what we are going to do this AM because there’s no way in hell I’ll be eating before 11 now! GRRRRRR.
Mini? for sure!
That’s odd. Because my friend was just lamenting the other day that* women* “can’t plan ahead”. Seems to me that there is true gender equality when it comes to cluelessness. 
Nonono, it’s parents who can’t plan ahead.
… don’t be alarmed now! It’s just a spring clean for the May Queen.
You know, that’s one of the things that really gets to me. My husband is perfectly fine with cooking a meal now and then to ‘give me a break.’ But for him to cook a meal means I have to:
a) Plan the menu. “You know I never know what to cook.”
b) Shop for all the ingredients. “I just can’t find things in the store.”
c) Be sure all the ingredients are in proper ‘ready to use’ status. Yes, that means thawed, but if it were to include hard boiled eggs, for example, the eggs need to be not just boiled, but already peeled because he simply won’t look ahead and realize there’s prep to do.
d) Be on hand to answer a half dozen questions during the process. (“Where have you hidden the knives?” “In the knife block. You know, the one we got twenty years ago?”)
e) Make a zillion compliments during the eating. To be fair, he does a decent job of the actual cooking.
f) Clean up the kitchen afterwards.
<sigh> It comes down to me doing at least 80% of the job and then having to hear him boast about doing me this great favor. Honestly, I’d be a whole lot happier with even some boiled hotdogs and a can of baked beans, if it meant you took ownership of the whole process.
That’s so stupid. Everybody knowws Osama bin shot.
Hand him a takeout menu, with your choices on a separate slip of paper.
Yes, there are two pads you can use now, but in the long run
There’s still time to change the grody one.
Bra-vo.
You just can not please some women.
I guess having “Stairway to Heaven” in my head as I pass this hedge is better than, “What the hell is wrong with people?!?”